


The Great Performance

by littleconnections



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: F/F, Lesbians, Rule 63
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 18:16:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23739913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleconnections/pseuds/littleconnections
Summary: Nolan wears her hair long for the draft.
Relationships: Travis Konecny/Nolan Patrick
Comments: 26
Kudos: 169
Collections: Flyers Fic Exchange





	The Great Performance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Stromesquad](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stromesquad/gifts).

> So, here's a fic! I hope this is what you were looking for Stromesquad and that everyone has fun reading it. 
> 
> Thank you to [ifihadallthewords](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ifihadallthewords/pseuds/ifihadallthewords) for betaing!

Nolan gets Maddie to help her with her hair for the draft. She borrows Maddie’s fancy shampoo and conditioner, sits still on the corner of the hotel bed and lets Maddie style it, straightener in hand and blow drier close by. When it’s done it’s sleek and shiny, a mass of brown that falls over Nolan’s shoulders and into her face. 

It’s unfamiliar. Usually she just pulls it back into a braid or a ponytail with whatever she has laying around, messy and quick. She’s not used to the delicate brush of tendrils against her cheek.

“Stop touching your hair,” Maddie hisses. “And smile.”

Nolan does, perfunctory. She sees Nico when they sit down, a couple of rows ahead of them. He catches her gaze and ducks his head, smile dimpling his face. If Nolan is going to lose first overall to anyone, she’s sort of glad that it’ll be to be him. He won’t be a dick about it at least.

When they call her name second, she gets up, smiles and pulls the jersey over her head carefully so that it doesn’t fuck up her hair. 

Nolan cuts her hair before training camp. Not super short — she can still pull it back into a tiny little ponytail, but it doesn’t brush her shoulders anymore. She goes to a like, fifteen-dollar hairdresser downtown and the whole thing takes about ten minutes. She walks out with her hair still wet. 

No one says anything about it at training camp, and why would they? It’s her hair, she can do what she wants with it. 

The first day at training camp is weird, but the Flyers know what they’re doing. They know how to integrate rookies into the team and Claude swoops in right away, shows Nolan to the locker room and starts introducing her around. 

She’s glad she’s on a team where she’s not the only girl. Woman. Whatever. There’s her and Ivan and Travis S. and Travis K. and Carter, soon. Hopefully. But they’re all young and not really established yet and she’s the only one that’s shiny and new and fresh from the draft. 

Travis Konecny is standing by her stall, half in and half out of her gear, when Nolan gets introduced. Her sports bra is white against her tan summer skin, muscles shifting in her back as she struggles with her pads. 

“Hey, Teeks,” Claude says. “Say hi to Nolan.”

Travis turns so fast her braid whips around and she grins, arms still stuck halfway into her pads. Nolan looks at her, at the broad line of her shoulders, her bright eyes. 

“’Sup?” Travis says. “I’m Travis. TK, Teeks, whatever. Your stall is right here I think. Girls’ corner!”

“Sure.” It’s whatever, being stuck with the girls, and after a minute of talking Claude transfers responsibility of her to TK. TK immediately keeps talking, occasionally trying and failing to get her hand unstuck and all the while telling Nolan where everything is, what she needs to look out for and who’s most likely to prank her.

They’re friends after that, which is funny. It’s not that Nolan has ever really had a  _ problem _ making friends before, not in hockey at least. There were always people she got along with, people who got her. But she’s aware that she’s not everyone’s cup of tea, that she can be…whatever. Closed-off. Standoffish. Rude.  _ Weird _ . 

TK isn’t like that. TK is loud and jovial, everything about who she is and what she wants out there for everyone to see. She tells Nolan she likes girls the first time they go out together, loudly, and then grins with all her teeth when Nolan agrees, yeah, girls are the fucking best. 

TK’s short, too. Short for a player, though not that short for a girl. She seems tiny when Nolan is right next to her, barely reaching Nolan’s shoulder but the rest of the time there’s so much of her, so much noise, so much movement, so many  _ emotions _ , that she fills all the space around her. And sometimes that space is right next to Nolan, on the couch or under Nolan’s arm, warm and laughing. 

Nolan knows the feeling in her chest, the way her breath catches in her throat when she looks at TK sometimes, but she refuses to think about it. 

There’s enough other stuff anyway. It’s her first season and she can feel all eyes on her. Or maybe she’s imagining it, maybe no one cares about the girl that went second overall, but it doesn’t feel that way. It feels like everything she does is under a microscope. Every shot judged, every game. She’s used to it but she doesn’t like it. It doesn’t help that she’s not playing very well right now, game after game without any points and she knows that fretting will only make it worse, but she can’t help herself. 

It feels wrong to say it, but in a way it helps that TK isn’t doing so hot either. Not really, because Nolan wants TK scoring, wants TK to smile, that shit-eating one, that top-of-the-world one, but also there’s...comfort, or something, in not being the only one struggling. 

Misery loves company, is probably what she’s trying to say. 

They get told they’re rooming together in November and Nolan’s heart beats wildly in her chest. 

It’s not the easiest thing, the two of them together. Because TK is so loud and out there, always talking shit and also because she’ll do things like climb onto Nolan’s bed, onto Nolan, and plant herself there, right on top of Nolan while they watch a movie. She’s heavy, tactile, playing with the ends of Nolan’s hair as she commentates along to the movie. Anyone else Nolan would have dumped off the bed long ago but—

It’s TK, right? She can’t.

So they argue about dinner and they argue about the Xbox and they argue about the bathroom and then TK shoves her way onto Nolan’s lap and puts her head on Nolan’s shoulder and Nolan can’t breathe. 

Or she can, every slow inhale-exhale lifting TK’s head. She watches, feels the weight of TK lift and lower, but emotionally everything is locked down, frozen, tight. She can’t breathe. 

TK smiles at Nolan sometimes, sleepy as the evening gets longer. She blinks slowly, looking up. Then Nolan actually can’t breathe. It’s like she just forgets, stuck in place until TK looks away again and the air rushes in. It’s so stupid. She always thinks TK will notice, but she never does.

In December, Nolan goes to the salon to get her hair cut. She makes an appointment and everything, gets the address from Ryanne and goes after practice on a non-game day.

TK comes with her. 

“When’s the last time you got a haircut?” Nolan mumbles.

“Dunno,” TK pops her gum. “Like a year ago?”

Nolan makes a face. TK makes a face right back.

“I like it long, dude!” TK exclaims as she pushes open the salon door. “Oh shit, this place is fancy.”

It is. There’s weird lamps and low music and a lot of very stylish men and women with a lot of product in their hair running around.

“Uh,” Nolan blinks down at the receptionist. “I have an appointment with...Kelly?”

Kelly has long grey hair and big glasses and she sits Nolan down in front of the mirror. TK gets a seat by the window, alternately grinning at Nolan and flicking through a magazine in her lap. 

“So what are we doing?” Kelly steps up behind Nolan.

“I want it short,” Nolan says.

“Hmm,” Kelly takes a strand of Nolan’s hair, pulls it straight to measure it. It almost comes down to her shoulder. “Like, chin length or really short?”

“Really short.”

Kelly purses her lips, looks at Nolan in the mirror. Pulls Nolan’s hair back from her face.

“I can see it,” she says. “You’ve got great bone structure. We can keep it a little longer in the front, a little sassy, but still feminine.” 

That’s...not really what Nolan wants but she doesn’t really know how to explain what she does want, so she nods.

“Sure.”

Kelly grins. 

Getting her hair washed is nice. She looks stupid when she sits back down in front of the mirror wearing the cape, but that’s normal. Kelly doesn’t bother trying to chat with her, just gets started on her hair. Nolan watches as Kelly measures and cuts, the strands of her hair falling onto the floor and her shoulders. She closes her eyes. 

Eventually Kelly gets out the huge hair drier, humming to herself as she works product into Nolan’s hair and gets in close. 

“Alright, you’re done.”

Nolan blinks at herself in the mirror. Her hair is...well it’s on point. It’s short in the back, long at the front, her bangs styled so that it falls to the side. Sassy and feminine, like Kelly said.

“Damn, Patty.” TK’s wandered over. “Lookin’ like a fuckin’ rocket, eh?”

“It’ll look good with a bold lip,” Kelly says.

“Right,” Nolan swallows. “Thanks.”

She wants to like it. It does look good. Pretty, modern, stylish — fitting. But there’s a yawning chasm of disappointment in her chest. This is not what she wants.

TK bumps their shoulders together as they leave the salon. 

“Not what you wanted?”

“It’s fine.”

She snorts. “Fine.  _ Fine _ . Not fucking good enough, Pattycakes. We’re not going back there then, if they can’t give you what you want.”

Sometimes Nolan can’t stand being around TK. It’s not even a — feelings thing. Just. Sometimes TK is yapping and yapping, goading Nolan as Nolan is trying to settle into herself and Nolan just —

“Fuck  _ off _ , Travis. Jesus Christ, I can’t fucking stand you.”

For a moment TK is silent, staring. Nolan swallows. Thinks that maybe this is the point where Travis sees — whatever, that she’s not — nice, or —

TK cackles. 

“Oh, you’re  _ mad _ mad, okay that’s cool,” she rolls off her bed, grinning. “I’ll hang with Travis 2, come back when you’re ready.”

She doesn’t look mad, smiling like she always does. Nolan doesn’t say anything as TK jams her feet into her slides and disappears out the door. It’s quiet, which is what Nolan wanted. Quiet and empty, and Nolan tucks herself into her bed, scrolls through her Instagram and tries to enjoy it.

There’s a niggling feeling in her stomach though and she hates it, hates that she feels bad about snapping at TK when TK — had been too much, yeah but that was just what she was like and maybe Nolan could have been — whatever. Not such a bitch about it. 

Maybe she’ll apologize later. 

When TK gets back Nolan is showered and tucked into bed, TV on some stupid movie she’d found while flipping through the channels. It’s not good but it’s holding her attention just enough that she’s not changing it to something else. 

Travis smiles when she comes in. 

“What’re we watching?”

“Hey,” Nolan says, awkward. She’s not good, at this. The part where you’re supposed to show you care about other people’s feelings. Be considerate. “Sorry I was a bitch earlier.”

TK shrugs. 

“I already knew you were a bitch,” she says and climbs onto the bed beside Nolan, wriggling until she’s found a comfortable position, her head against Nolan’s shoulder. “’s what I like about you. You don’t try to be nice to people for no reason. That’s real.”

“Oh.” Nolan says. Feels warm, in her face and her chest. 

They stay like that, watching the movie. TK’s hair is kind of tickling Nolan’s face and Nolan is aware of every slow thud of her heart in her chest, loud and echoing and —

She already knew she had a problem, but this feels like so much more. 

It’s almost the end of the season when Nolan decides to shave her hair off. Everything is tense, every point counts. They’re looking to make the playoffs. Nolan feels like she’s shaking out of her skin every time she thinks about it. 

“I wanna cut my hair.”

She says it into the quiet of the dark hotel room. There’s rustle from the other bed. TK blinks over to her from where she’s already wrapped in her blanket, curled up on the side. Nolan can see that, eyes adjusted to the dark. 

“Like, by yourself?”

Nolan had messed around with her hair before, shaved the sides, trimmed it, gotten a mullet. It was when things got serious about the draft that she decided to grow it out for real. 

Tanner had laughed at her. 

“You trying to catfish the NHL?” he’d said.

He wasn’t really wrong. Nolan had known there were things that spoke against her going number one overall: her injuries, being a girl. She’d thought that maybe she could do this right, at least. Be the right sort of girl. Look the part. 

Hadn’t mattered in the end. 

But she’s here now with TK looking at her. That feels — right. 

“I have clippers at home,” Nolan mumbles. Can feel the dull heat in her cheeks, though TK can’t see it in the dark. Stupid. “I just need someone to help me with it.”

“I mean,” TK says. “I can do it, but I don’t wanna fuck it up? You’re too pretty to be running around with messed up hair, Pats.”

A thrill runs through Nolan when TK calls her pretty, but that wasn’t the point. Being pretty wasn’t the point. 

“It’ll be fine.” She shrugs. “You can’t really fuck it up.”

They go straight to Nolan’s place when they get back from the road trip. TK asks her if she’s sure in the car, if she really wants to cut it  _ all _ off. When Nolan says yes, TK grins. Always ready for it. 

Inside they kick off their shoes, grab a water, go to the bathroom. There’s no urgency or whatever, just. It feels like something that needs to get done, so why put it off?

In the bathroom, Nolan digs out her clippers. Plugs them in, explains them to TK, who nods along, brows furrowed in concentration. Then — it’s time.

Nolan pulls her shirt off, then, after a moment of hesitation, her bra. It feels weird under the bright, fluorescent lights of the bathroom, the crowded, boxy intimacy of the small space, made smaller by TK right next to her. 

She huffs out a breath. Turns around.

TK is looking at her, mouth slightly open. Pink. Wet.

“What?”

“Nothing,” TK bites the corner of her lip. “Just. Your tits are nice.”

Nolan rolls her eyes even as she feels the heat of a blush on her cheeks. Her boobs are fine. Average. There. Whatever.

“Come on.”

Nolan sits down on the closed toilet seat. Closes her eyes. She hears the low buzz of the clippers, feels the warmth when TK steps up next to her. Twitches when TK puts a hand on her shoulder. 

“Okay?”

“Yeah.”

TK is careful. Methodical. Nolan feels the pressure of the clippers, the warmth of TK’s steadying hand. The itch of the little bits of hair that fall onto her bare skin. She moves where TK shifts her, tries to concentrate on thinking about nothing. Her blood is rushing. She can feel the beating of her heart in her chest and her temples. 

Finally the clippers click off. Silence fills the bathroom, sharp in contrast. Nolan can hear TK breathing. She keeps her eyes closed, for just a second, then opens them and looks up. 

TK is so close to her, looking down. She’s so — there are stray hairs escaping from her braid and her cheeks are pink, eyes wide and mouth open as she stares down at Nolan. They’re so close. Nolan’s bare shoulders brush against her and she wants her so much it hurts. 

Travis sets the clippers down on the sink with a careful clink. She doesn’t move away but reaches out. Her fingers run over the side of Nolan’s head, scratching gently. Nolan can see Travis swallow, breathe out, as she touches Nolan’s head all over. She doesn’t look away from Nolan’s face.

Suddenly, everything is too small. Nolan yanks her head back, shoves herself up from the toilet. Travis startles back and they’re looking at each other. Nolan is looking down again. Everything is the way it’s supposed to be. Nolan’s head is spinning.

“I’m going to shower.” Her voice is rough.

“Right. Right!” Travis nods, head bobbing. “I’ll, uh, be out…there.”

She spins and marches out of the door, head high, back straight. Nolan looks until the door closes, then turns to the mirror. 

She studies herself for a moment. There’s her mouth, pink and wide, her big nose, the angles of her cheekbones. It’s all there now, more prominent, angular, sloping without the distraction of hair. Nowhere to hide. She turns her head, looks at herself this way and that, then jerks away. Strips, marches into the shower. 

It’s just a quick rinse to get the hair off and then she dries off, slips back into her sweats and old shirt. She doesn’t bother with the bra. 

Travis is sitting on the couch. Her feet are up, hands wrapped around her knees, fingers tapping as she stares into space, chewing on her tongue. She smiles as Nolan sprawls out on the couch beside her. Nolan leans into the cushions, tips her head back so she’s staring at the ceiling. 

She can feel the questions crowd her mouth, the desperate need for reassurance. Am I still pretty? What will people say? She swallows them down, feels herself dig her heels in. Who gives a shit about being pretty? Who gives a shit what people think? This isn’t for them. 

Nolan lets her head loll so she can look at Travis. Travis’s got a hand in her own hair now, absently digging her fingers into it. 

“We can do yours if you want,” Nolan says. 

Travis’s eyes take a moment to focus on her, then she squawks. 

“No way! I worked hard on this flow!”

“You sure? I mean, it wouldn’t take long at all — ” Nolan is already reaching out to Travis, ready to pull on her hair, just a little, but Travis grabs her wrist as it’s coming and then they’re grappling. 

Travis’s always been stronger than she looks so it’s not a surprise when she uses her grip on Nolan’s wrist to pull Nolan to the side, get her off balance. Travis hauls herself up on her knees and Nolan pulls back against her and then Travis is tipping forward, up above Nolan again, too close. 

This time Nolan doesn’t pull away. She leans into the couch cushions, tilts her head back to look at Travis. She sees Travis’s face open, equal parts vulnerability and stubbornness. When Travis leans down, Nolan’s already leaning up to kiss her. 

It’s precious. There’s no sound in the apartment except their breaths, the slick sounds of their mouths. Nolan puts a hand on Travis’s side. There’s the warm, hard feel of Travis’s body under her hand. The way Travis leans in, bites Nolan’s lip, softly and then harder and when Nolan looks at her, there’s a glint in her eye. 

She swings herself into Nolan’s lap and settles in. Her mouth is hot, her fingers dig into Nolan’s shoulders and Nolan loses herself in it. Kissing Travis. She tries not to think about what she’s feeling, the way her heart is thundering in her chest. She can’t believe she gets to do this, drag her fingertips up under Travis’s shirt, over the warm skin of her back. 

Eventually Travis pulls back. She has a hand on Nolan’s head again, fingers scratching through the fuzz. She bites her lip. 

“I want you to have whatever you want.”

Nolan tightens her fingers on Travis’s hips. Travis’s hand is warm. 

“Your hair, this…whatever it is you want, I want to give it to you.”

Travis’s eyes are big and earnest. Nolan doesn’t know what to say, everything she could say clogging up her throat but maybe Travis reads it in her face because Travis smiles, eyes crinkling and when she leans down to kiss Nolan again it feels like understanding, like benediction. 

Everything’s going to be alright. 

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on twitter as polygononal or on Tumblr as littleconnections :)


End file.
